(Say that 3 times fast without your teeth, and you would have to serve towels with that!)
Which was more beautiful - the man or the car??
Mark often says that I am like Rose Nylund from The Golden Girls. I don't think, teach or even dream in a linear fashion, so why should I tell a story in a manner which is inconsistent with my basic character?
Most of you that know me well will know that Mark and I have been a couple for almost 9 years.
Let's start this thing off with debunking yet another common misconception. I'm sure you have all heard it, and most of you even utter it occasionally:
"I'm married now, so I don't even notice / see other people!"
(Please replace the word "Married" with partnered, joined, 'I have a significant other'. dating, or any other word or phrase that indicates that you are not a single person.)
I am a relatively simple person, so if you would help me to better understand this situation, I would be forever in your debt.
For the life of me, I cannot understand how a marriage license or a commitment to another person stops you from SEEING or noticing others. I mean - C'mon! Right after your marriage / commitment ceremony, are you going to tell me that you walk into people when you walk down a mall or when you are walking down the street? While driving your car, do you run over people crossing the street and then say, "Oh, excuse me! I didn't see you there because (and you have to say it like Shug Avery from The Color Purple), "Look, pa! I's married now!"
The honest answer to those rhetorical questions, whether you are willing or not to admit it is, "But of course not!"
OK. OK. Now that I have pounded out of you the truth, and you have come to the conclusion that a commitment to another person does not, actually, render you blind and helpless, I can surmise that when you see somebody, you actually SEE them. You note whether they are tall or short, fat or thin, what race they might be, whether they have long, short or no hair at all, what they might have been wearing, their general demeanor - and the list could continue for quite some time. Included in that list is the fact that you will notice that, according to your own personal criteria and filters that you have set up long ago, you will automatically determine if that person is more or less attractive. If you lie and tell me that "you don't such a thing", you are in some serious denial, and as those people who tend to wax Biblical would be inclined to say, "You are a liar and the truth is not in you!"
While this next statement is not at all the gist of this blog, it does exist in a parallel universe with the "Everybody looks at everybody else - some just choose to lie about it!" theme. Mark Twain said, "Ninety-Five percent of the people say that they experience self-gratification. The other five percent are liars!"
Translated: "Everybody masturbates. Five percent of the people choose to lie and say they don't!"
The parallel that I am aiming towards: "Everybody looks at everybody else. A percentage of the people choose to lie and say they don't!"
Schucks is a local St. Louis-based mid-range grocery store chain. Some folk would say that it is a step up from H-Vees and Save-A-Lot stores, yet Dieerbergs is a local grocery store chain that is a rung higher than Schnucks on that ladder, and Straub's is on the top rung with a bit of snoot to polish it off.
We live 3 blocks from the Schnucks that was billed as "Mrs. Schnucks Schnucks". It isn't as big as the larger supermarket Schnucks, and has a gourmet yet cafe vibe to it.
Today, I have one of those 'sweets' cravings that I have all-too-often, and decided that to help rationalize the calories that I was about to ingest, I would walk to the market, rather than drive. It is a nice, temperate day - the high temp should reach only 81 degrees.
I have never done the type of live-in-the-store shopping that Mark does. Unless it is an International Food Market, which is more of an experience than a chore, I can be in-and-out-of a grocery store in 10 minutes or less with a week's worth of food. Mark will take a minimum of a couple hours - and that is no joke.
Anywho, I walked to the grocery store for a little nosh. I had my mind set on one of the large chocolate chip cookie sandwiches that has icing in the middle, and that is so big that I usually have to eat it in two sittings. My secondary reason for going was to get eggs and Egg Beaters, for me and Conrad, and a small bag of sugar. If I get a BIG bag of sugar, I will eat it all within a very short time!
I was walking through the bakery section. The feeling you get when you know somebody it watching you came over me. I looked up, and looked into the eyes of who I honestly believe was a World Wrestler. No. Really!
My Ex worked at the airport as first a reservation agent, then he worked the counter to check passengers on a flight, then as a flight attendant. I would often drive to the airport, park, and go inside to wait on him to finish his shift. On more than one occasion, the members of the WWF would pass me walking down the concourse. I have a 'somewhat' unorthodox look. I know. You're saying, "No, you're kidding! I would have never noticed!" More heads turn in my general direction when my beard and mustache and beard are long and well groomed, and especially when my facial hair is bleached snow white. Several of the WWF wrestlers have stopped to talk to me. They say to me, "I put this outfit on when I am going on stage - for the act. When YOU live it as part of your life, rather than an act, it's quite a different story, eh?"
My answer: "Indeed, it is quite a different story!"
I was staring into the eyes of a 6' 6" World Wrestler! New, shiny, shaved head, steel blue eyes, long Tom of Finland Foo Manchu mustache, built like a brick Shit House, and tattoos coming out of his collar and up the back of his neck! Did I mention the butt that you could serve Brunch on? I froze for a second. Catching me off-guard is no easy task. I have been selling a lot of my musical instruments lately. Mark thinks I am going to die soon. Did I just have "The Big One"? Am I really dead, and I just don't know it, and did I go straight (IMAGINE THAT!) to Man Heaven? The only thing I could do was to mutter to myself, "GOOD GOD, MAN!"
I shifted my eyes so we wouldn't be staring into each other's beautiful peepers. I went around the end of the isle, regained any composure that I could muster up, and I continued with my abbreviated shopping trip. This store isn't tiny, but it is by no means a supermarket. Can I just confide in you - because you're my favorite! - that I ran into this man 3 more times in the isles of the store before I managed to get to the check-out lane?
Given that this is not a huge store, the parking lot is appropriately sized. It isn't a big lot. This was on a Sunday morning, and this store isn't busy on weekend mornings. There were few cars in the parking lot. This grocery store shares the lot with a bank, which is closed on Sundays. Some workmen had a section of the lot that the bank shares blocked off, and they were doing some repairs on the roof. A small part of the bank parking lot was not blocked off. This car was parked in that section of vacant parking lot (He parked the car there to avoid door dings, etc!):
A Limited Edition Lamborghini Convertible!
Even though I am not at all a testosterone-filled fast-car enthusiast, I do have a dream car and a dream truck in mind. They are a fully Loaded Dodge Viper, and the highest priced, loaded HUGE Dodge Ram truck. I am not a Mopar Maniac, it is pure coincidence that they are both Dodges. I currently drive a 2004 Dodge Dakota truck with 41,000 miles on it.
Whether you like cars or not, it does come to the point where you have to stop and admit, "Even though I am not a car nut, that is a BEAUTIFUL, MUSCLY CAR!" That is a $382,000 car!
The moment I realized that the ultimate hunk that was in the store drove this wonderful work of art (and has the $$ to own such a car!), I had to stop and say it again: "GOOD GOD. MAN!"
A lot of people are reluctant to admit that a man is 'beautiful'. I'm not talking about a person who has every hair in place, eyebrows tweezed just right, perfectly tanned - you know - a 'pretty boy". At best, I have trouble with that definition, and that general idea, anyway. I feel that a person who works hard to maintain themselves, and he / she puts the work into themselves that is involved in looking good, then that person can look as 'pretty' as their little heart desires. The man that I previously described (shaved head, TALL, BUILT, long 'stache, etc), is not, in the classical sense, "pretty", but honey, let me tell you first! He was BEAUTIFUL! And the Lamborghini was just the icing on the cake! That car, too, was BEAUTIFUL!
Did I sneak up on him from behind, and try to tackle him as he urinated in the stall of a public bathroom? No ! (Hey! I didn't have the opportunity, but I would have, should the occasion have presented itself!)
I simply tried to lower my heart rate, and I continued about my daily business.
But....the urge did come over me to do an "Adam" in 'The Color Purple', and instead of "Momma! Momma!", I wanted to run across the parking lot with my arms outstretched yelling, "Daddy! Daddy!"
(at 1:35 in this video):
Both the man AND the car were beautiful!
- Michael
Which was more beautiful - the man or the car??
Mark often says that I am like Rose Nylund from The Golden Girls. I don't think, teach or even dream in a linear fashion, so why should I tell a story in a manner which is inconsistent with my basic character?
Most of you that know me well will know that Mark and I have been a couple for almost 9 years.
Let's start this thing off with debunking yet another common misconception. I'm sure you have all heard it, and most of you even utter it occasionally:
"I'm married now, so I don't even notice / see other people!"
(Please replace the word "Married" with partnered, joined, 'I have a significant other'. dating, or any other word or phrase that indicates that you are not a single person.)
I am a relatively simple person, so if you would help me to better understand this situation, I would be forever in your debt.
For the life of me, I cannot understand how a marriage license or a commitment to another person stops you from SEEING or noticing others. I mean - C'mon! Right after your marriage / commitment ceremony, are you going to tell me that you walk into people when you walk down a mall or when you are walking down the street? While driving your car, do you run over people crossing the street and then say, "Oh, excuse me! I didn't see you there because (and you have to say it like Shug Avery from The Color Purple), "Look, pa! I's married now!"
The honest answer to those rhetorical questions, whether you are willing or not to admit it is, "But of course not!"
OK. OK. Now that I have pounded out of you the truth, and you have come to the conclusion that a commitment to another person does not, actually, render you blind and helpless, I can surmise that when you see somebody, you actually SEE them. You note whether they are tall or short, fat or thin, what race they might be, whether they have long, short or no hair at all, what they might have been wearing, their general demeanor - and the list could continue for quite some time. Included in that list is the fact that you will notice that, according to your own personal criteria and filters that you have set up long ago, you will automatically determine if that person is more or less attractive. If you lie and tell me that "you don't such a thing", you are in some serious denial, and as those people who tend to wax Biblical would be inclined to say, "You are a liar and the truth is not in you!"
While this next statement is not at all the gist of this blog, it does exist in a parallel universe with the "Everybody looks at everybody else - some just choose to lie about it!" theme. Mark Twain said, "Ninety-Five percent of the people say that they experience self-gratification. The other five percent are liars!"
Translated: "Everybody masturbates. Five percent of the people choose to lie and say they don't!"
The parallel that I am aiming towards: "Everybody looks at everybody else. A percentage of the people choose to lie and say they don't!"
If You Would Have Seen The Sight That I Saw,
You Would Say The Same!Schucks is a local St. Louis-based mid-range grocery store chain. Some folk would say that it is a step up from H-Vees and Save-A-Lot stores, yet Dieerbergs is a local grocery store chain that is a rung higher than Schnucks on that ladder, and Straub's is on the top rung with a bit of snoot to polish it off.
We live 3 blocks from the Schnucks that was billed as "Mrs. Schnucks Schnucks". It isn't as big as the larger supermarket Schnucks, and has a gourmet yet cafe vibe to it.
Today, I have one of those 'sweets' cravings that I have all-too-often, and decided that to help rationalize the calories that I was about to ingest, I would walk to the market, rather than drive. It is a nice, temperate day - the high temp should reach only 81 degrees.
I have never done the type of live-in-the-store shopping that Mark does. Unless it is an International Food Market, which is more of an experience than a chore, I can be in-and-out-of a grocery store in 10 minutes or less with a week's worth of food. Mark will take a minimum of a couple hours - and that is no joke.
Anywho, I walked to the grocery store for a little nosh. I had my mind set on one of the large chocolate chip cookie sandwiches that has icing in the middle, and that is so big that I usually have to eat it in two sittings. My secondary reason for going was to get eggs and Egg Beaters, for me and Conrad, and a small bag of sugar. If I get a BIG bag of sugar, I will eat it all within a very short time!
I was walking through the bakery section. The feeling you get when you know somebody it watching you came over me. I looked up, and looked into the eyes of who I honestly believe was a World Wrestler. No. Really!
My Ex worked at the airport as first a reservation agent, then he worked the counter to check passengers on a flight, then as a flight attendant. I would often drive to the airport, park, and go inside to wait on him to finish his shift. On more than one occasion, the members of the WWF would pass me walking down the concourse. I have a 'somewhat' unorthodox look. I know. You're saying, "No, you're kidding! I would have never noticed!" More heads turn in my general direction when my beard and mustache and beard are long and well groomed, and especially when my facial hair is bleached snow white. Several of the WWF wrestlers have stopped to talk to me. They say to me, "I put this outfit on when I am going on stage - for the act. When YOU live it as part of your life, rather than an act, it's quite a different story, eh?"
My answer: "Indeed, it is quite a different story!"
I was staring into the eyes of a 6' 6" World Wrestler! New, shiny, shaved head, steel blue eyes, long Tom of Finland Foo Manchu mustache, built like a brick Shit House, and tattoos coming out of his collar and up the back of his neck! Did I mention the butt that you could serve Brunch on? I froze for a second. Catching me off-guard is no easy task. I have been selling a lot of my musical instruments lately. Mark thinks I am going to die soon. Did I just have "The Big One"? Am I really dead, and I just don't know it, and did I go straight (IMAGINE THAT!) to Man Heaven? The only thing I could do was to mutter to myself, "GOOD GOD, MAN!"
I shifted my eyes so we wouldn't be staring into each other's beautiful peepers. I went around the end of the isle, regained any composure that I could muster up, and I continued with my abbreviated shopping trip. This store isn't tiny, but it is by no means a supermarket. Can I just confide in you - because you're my favorite! - that I ran into this man 3 more times in the isles of the store before I managed to get to the check-out lane?
Given that this is not a huge store, the parking lot is appropriately sized. It isn't a big lot. This was on a Sunday morning, and this store isn't busy on weekend mornings. There were few cars in the parking lot. This grocery store shares the lot with a bank, which is closed on Sundays. Some workmen had a section of the lot that the bank shares blocked off, and they were doing some repairs on the roof. A small part of the bank parking lot was not blocked off. This car was parked in that section of vacant parking lot (He parked the car there to avoid door dings, etc!):
A Limited Edition Lamborghini Convertible!
Even though I am not at all a testosterone-filled fast-car enthusiast, I do have a dream car and a dream truck in mind. They are a fully Loaded Dodge Viper, and the highest priced, loaded HUGE Dodge Ram truck. I am not a Mopar Maniac, it is pure coincidence that they are both Dodges. I currently drive a 2004 Dodge Dakota truck with 41,000 miles on it.
Whether you like cars or not, it does come to the point where you have to stop and admit, "Even though I am not a car nut, that is a BEAUTIFUL, MUSCLY CAR!" That is a $382,000 car!
The moment I realized that the ultimate hunk that was in the store drove this wonderful work of art (and has the $$ to own such a car!), I had to stop and say it again: "GOOD GOD. MAN!"
A lot of people are reluctant to admit that a man is 'beautiful'. I'm not talking about a person who has every hair in place, eyebrows tweezed just right, perfectly tanned - you know - a 'pretty boy". At best, I have trouble with that definition, and that general idea, anyway. I feel that a person who works hard to maintain themselves, and he / she puts the work into themselves that is involved in looking good, then that person can look as 'pretty' as their little heart desires. The man that I previously described (shaved head, TALL, BUILT, long 'stache, etc), is not, in the classical sense, "pretty", but honey, let me tell you first! He was BEAUTIFUL! And the Lamborghini was just the icing on the cake! That car, too, was BEAUTIFUL!
Did I sneak up on him from behind, and try to tackle him as he urinated in the stall of a public bathroom? No ! (Hey! I didn't have the opportunity, but I would have, should the occasion have presented itself!)
I simply tried to lower my heart rate, and I continued about my daily business.
But....the urge did come over me to do an "Adam" in 'The Color Purple', and instead of "Momma! Momma!", I wanted to run across the parking lot with my arms outstretched yelling, "Daddy! Daddy!"
(at 1:35 in this video):
Both the man AND the car were beautiful!
- Michael
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